Tortuguero Expedition, Gay Costa Rica Part Two

(Continued from Part 1)

By Zachary Moses

Today we departed from our tranquil lodge in Tortuguero and started our journey toward Sarapiqui. We retraced our path through the winding streams of the delta, then followed the river back to the restaurant where our bus was waiting for us.

During the boat ride I soon realized that I had not followed my own advice of visiting a bathroom just before our long ride, and I had to pee so bad, I felt like I was going to burst. I foolishly mentioned this to my seat mate and news of my discomfort spread like wildfire; everyone seemed to enjoy gabbing about the worst possible things for someone in my condition to hear. They spoke of airport toilets, cascading waterfalls, swimming pools, etc …  Today was going to be one long ride for me. But when we got back to the bus, I had Frank (our driver) stop at a market so we could fill a cooler with beer. I became the savior of the day, and all mockery went away. This made the rest of the day go by just swimmingly.

Soon, we arrived at our eco-lodge in Sarapiqui. Everyone was shocked at just how luxurious an eco-lodge can be. We had the afternoon free, so we all made a bee-line for the swimming pool. The swimming pool had an amazing infinity edge, which appeared to drop off into the jungle ravine. We stayed in the pool for what seemed like hours. Even though the unheated pool water was a bit chilly, it was nicely offset by the 85 degree February air temperature!

The next day was our ultimate adventure: after a huge Costa Rican breakfast, we split for Hacienda Pozo Azul, where we geared up for our zip lining. We donned helmets, leather gloves, and an adventurous spirit. Everyone climbed into a huge trailer pulled by a tractor and we were hauled up the mountainside to where our course began.

At first I stood to the side, taking photos and video of everyone zipping off through the canopy. My turn came, and it was an exhilarating experience. We flew through the trees, hundreds of feet off the ground. Between each run, we landed on platforms 60 or 70 feet up in the trees. Coming in for a landing was the most fun because we controlled our own speed with a large braking glove. (I of course always came in blindingly fast.) After landing on the platform, we would hop onto the next cable line through a convoluted process of clipping in and out of several safety connections.

Some of the zip line runs are faster than others. While we literally “zip” down some of the steeper runs, it’s amusing to watch guys try to figure out how to gain momentum on some of the slower runs. In the orientation session, we were told how to turn around and gain momentum by using hand over hand movements but alas, we forgot our ”training” in the time of crisis! When someone got totally stranded hanging out over the middle of a run, the guide would zip out to him, wrap his legs around him (maybe this was not so bad?) and pull him hand-over-hand back to the platform.

As we ziplined down the mountain, we also took scenic hikes up through the jungle to regain altitude for additional runs.  A highlight was the extra long zip line run over the river, at least a hundred feet up in the air. The line had a nice steep slope to it, which got us going super fast … practically like a sonic boom-producing flight … (well, maybe not that fast).

After zip-lining, we went directly to whitewater rafting. We used oar boats, with six passengers paddling and one river guide steering like crazy. When we launched into the Sarapiqui River, which features an obstacle course of boulders and pointy objects, it was so much fun! We got hung up on rocks and spun around backward several times. One of our groups even flipped their boat over. (This is why we require life jackets!). Everyone made it through the rapids safely, but my fingers and toes were tingling with adrenaline. It was so wild!

We stopped halfway along the river course and climbed up the cliff-side. The river guides sliced up several big ripe Costa Rican pineapples. While we were eating, the guides said it was OK to do some cliff jumping into the river. I did a cannon ball and landed on my feet at the bottom of the river. Jeff, who is maybe 12 inches taller than me did the same thing … but he smacked his butt right into the river floor, so I don’t recommend this for our taller rafters!

After rafting, we went back to Pozo Azul and had a fabulous lunch on the restaurant’s veranda, overlooking the river. Everyone was so hungry from all the exercise. The food tasted soooo good, but I’ll be honest. We were all so hungry that they could have given us a bowl full of tiny cold sausages and we still would have thought it was delicious. *shudder*

We had the afternoon free, and most of us took a nap. Then in the evening after dinner, I went outside behind the restaurant to call home, and they locked me out and turned out the lights. It forced me to do some jungle-crawling in the pitch-black darkness to get back to my hotel room. There I found a fruit bat flapping around. It was way more scared of me than I was of it. At one point it tried to get away from me and smacked right into the ceiling so hard that it knocked itself out. I scooped it up and put it outside before it awoke.

This trip just kept getting better and better! […to be continued]

If you would like more information on the Tortuguero Expedition tour click here! or visit www.AlysonAdventures.com to see all of our amazing adventures!

The Art of Tour Development

By Zachary Moses

Have you ever seen an image in a magazine and thought to yourself “wouldn’t it be great to visit that place?” Perhaps you cut out the image from the magazine and stuck it to the side of your fridge with that plumbing or real estate refrigerator magnet that has been mysteriously on your fridge since you received it in 1995. You said to yourself, “someday… this is where I am going.” You weren’t sure how to get there or when, but you just knew that eventually, no matter what it would take, you would get there. This is your bucket list.

A few years pass, and one day you say to yourself “You know what? I’m going to do it! This year, I’m going.”

So you’ve made your decision, but now what do you do? Maybe you make a Google search or take a trip to Trip Adviser. Oh boy! It turns out that there are a lot of opinions on the Internet, and they often contradict each other. It can get a little bit overwhelming. So you break down and call some random travel agent. In the best case, the agent understands exactly what you want, and recommends the perfect spot. Or maybe the agent tries to sell you an entirely different destination that they know better, or encourages you to book a mainstream cruise where you get to wait in line to go ashore at your dream destination with your 5,000 new friends.

Sound familiar? If you still feel you haven’t found the right solution, you can go back to the Internet and try to book each part of your holiday by yourself. However, there are so many online options that it can be overwhelming. This hotel looks great, but is it in the right neighborhood? That restaurant sounds fantastic, but how do you get there? Do the locals speak English? How do you exchange money in this country? This hotel sounds too good to be true, but is this some scam? Yikes, wouldn’t it be great to have a knowledgeable editor?

This is where we come in. HE Travel and Alyson Adventures are what are known as international tour operators. We design and develop small group tours around the world, and we’ve been doing it for more than 40 years. We scour the globe, not only finding the most fascinating places, but figuring out the best way for you to see them. We always know who to talk to so we can stay current about what’s worthwhile seeing and doing. When possible we introduce you to our friends in the destination, and we know which local can be persuaded to let you into that section of the park that’s “closed” to the public. We would never just put you on a bus and drive you around so you can take pictures out your window.

Our mission is adventure! Whether you are on one of our group tours, or on a customized tour that we’ve designed just for you, our goal is to make sure that you experience the region for what it truly is, and to learn what the people who live there are most proud of. We immerse you in the destination, and adapt to the place, rather than making the place adapt to us. You will see the impossible, taste the incredible, and feel the freedom that comes from a well-run tour.

Our tours generally take months to develop, with tours to some unique destinations actually taking years to get everything just right … and just like you, we have magazine clippings of our dream destinations on our refrigerators. This is how great tours start, from dreams.

Every tour company has their primary ”market.” For us, it’s the gay community. We know what gay people want from their time spent at a destination, and we know the best way to deliver it.  When we are designing our tours, we find our suppliers, then we have months of site visits, emails and phone calls aligning everything down to the smallest detail. We make arrangements to deal with the miles (or kilometers) of cultural differences. We make sure that the destinations are gay-friendly and we send our professional tour directors with nearly every tour, in order to make sure that every aspect of the tour is delivered as promised. Our tours bring together a small group of gay folks (and sometimes friends and family), so that no matter where we are, we’ve brought the gay community with us. We are your professional trip adviser. We bring you the world so that you only have to bring yourself.

NYC GLBT Expo

By Zachary Moses

I departed Key West bright and early. I hardly even remember the flight to New York for the GLBT Expo. I was so sleepy that I spent the majority of my time on the plane sawing logs. Due to a delay of my flight from Atlanta to Newark, I got the opportunity to eat at the airport McDonalds, although if I had known the amazing McDonalds that was waiting

for me in Times Square, I would have waited to have this most cherished experience….

When I finally got to Newark Airport I helped a nice Canadian woman and her daughter figure out how to book train tickets into Manhattan. Cocky! I had no idea how to print train tickets into Manhattan, but every time I hit a snag, I just complained out loud about the worthless NYC transit system. They seemed to accept this well. I sat with them for the whole journey, and chatted all about the wonders of Canada. I had not actually bothered

finding my hotel on any map before arriving in New York, so the Canadians returned my worthless favor of pretending to help them, by walking with me through the city pretending to help me find my hotel.

For dinner, I had my first ever New York Kebab from a street vendor. They put the kebab in a hot dog bun. Why would they do this? There was a pointy stick involved. I can’t eat a hot dog bun with a pointy stick running through it. This could have killed me! All I could think about was Inuits hiding flexible seal bones encased in frozen meat to kill polar bears. I kept looking over my shoulder while eating my kebab bun, to make sure I wasn‘t being hunted.

In the morning I got out bright and early so that I could get some video of people acting rude, immoral and downright inappropriate for the St. Patrick’s Day celebrations. I got plenty of video of twenty-something’s ruining all their chances of ever running for political office.

The trade show got off to a great start with lots of people coming by the booth to see me and Marty. Marty runs Grand Canyon Expeditions, the supplier of the boats and superb crew that we use to run our Splash! Grand Canyon rafting tours. We had a lot of visitors to our booth, because Marty and I were giving away a free week-long Grand Canyon rafting trip to one lucky winner.

My feet hurt so badly by the end of the day from all the standing. I was also doing so much talking that I was starting to lose my voice. I sounded like Fran Drescher after getting a face full of corn starch. I started to eat candy like some kind of home-schooled teenager (who had been denied sweets his whole life), just shoving it in with the heel of my hand in order get the juices flowing and to prevent a sore throat.

That evening I went out with the sales manager of Lucky Strikes Lanes in New York City. He happened to be manning the booth across from me during the show. We, of course, went over to see the Lucky Strikes facility. Wow! Did you know that there is a bowling alley in New York City where you have to cross the velvet rope? Seriously, there are doormen, bouncers, hot employees and even a bathroom attendant (whom I still owe money to, since I had no tip money… I was not expecting to have to tip a bathroom attendant).  After “slummin’ it at the bowling alley” Bryan showed me the Hudson River waterfront. Along the way, I had to pee so badly. Doesn’t anyone realize that you should have urinals along any waterfront? I had to duck behind a building to relieve myself. I walked back around the front of the building only to realize it was an NYPD building. Luckily for me, no one was looking. Whew…

The following morning I got on the subway train and went over to Central Park. It was really refreshing to just sit and take a break from the hustle bustle of the city, although “break” is a term I use very lightly for this city. I’ve never seen people in such a hurry to live their lives in my Life.  It was nice just sitting and people watching for the morning, even if the passers-by were all jogging while drinking quadruple shot Americanos and chatting on their blue tooth headsets with “clients.”

After the expo that afternoon, I decided to go out exploring on my own. … This was a strange experience. No one said hello to me while I was out. There were a bazillion people in New York, all acting like no one else was there. This is so different from the One Human Family attitude of Key West, where one can spend 20 minutes of any given day discussing with random strangers about how hot our (openly gay) police chief is.

At some point this really good-looking guy sidled up to me and started following me around. He kept asking me all kinds of questions. “Where are you going? How long are you in New York? What do you do?” Ack! I was ordering pizza when it occurred to me that this guy was a total psychopath … I felt in this moment that if I didn’t remove myself from him that I was going to get robbed by him (note to self … not all people are flirting with me). Wow! It was soooo exhilarating! Potentially robbed?!! My god, I felt like an adventurer first class: danger, thrills, excitement … like something right out of the Hardy Boys.

Really, though, I just tucked myself in a corner and awkwardly ignored cookoo-bananas-guy for about 40 minutes. Meanwhile I spent my time sending cryptic text messages about my plight to loved ones and Facebook. Eventually he left, and I booked it back to my hotel, putting a stop to my spiraling paranoia.

Of course I should have gone straight to bed, but I couldn’t resist a quick pop into the hotel bar. I met a personal trainer in there, who told me I was working my butt out all wrong. Ouch! Until now, no one has dared question my posterior-size-maximization-techniques. It was like an open-hand slap to my ego, followed by a nice barefoot kick to the ear … although, I will admit that the new exercises are working and my butt now hurts every single time I take a step. Thank you mysterious-personal-trainer!

From here, mysterious-personal-trainer and I took our over-sized booties out on the town and got lost in the hubbub of Times Square. It is amazing to me that companies spend so much money to put video screens up on all these skyscrapers with moving ads. I will admit that it did captivate me to see these New Years-like scenes in person, and that I stayed out a little too late, but it was worth it. In fact, it totally gave me the chance to get pictures of myself standing on a pointless lighted red staircase to nowhere. Hooray!

New York, you are lots of fun! Although I think I came home with just a touch of sleep deprivation and a few new gray hairs.

Here’s more about the trip I was promoting at the GLBT Expo in New York: Splash! Grand Canyon white water rafting tour

To see the full Alyson Adventures calendar, click here!

Tortuguero Expedition, Gay Costa Rica Part One

Oh my god! You should have seen the water around Miami! The flight from Key West to Miami was one of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. The night before had rewarded us with a torrential downpour of fresh rain that had increased water levels throughout the Everglades, and the sun was glimmering like diamonds among the grasses. When we reached Miami, the airplane flew way out over the Atlantic and then banked back toward the city. The sea was the most amazing vivid blue I have ever seen, reminiscent of 2000 Flushes in a toilet bowl (which sounds gross, but is really something special when it’s an ocean of blue).

The following flight to San Jose was uneventful. I just fell asleep and woke up with my mouth hanging open like some dead person. Drool running down my shirt. Neck kinked to one side. The crease of some book binding imprinted into my face. I travel in style.

I arrived at my hotel in San Jose with lots of time to kill, so I decided to do a little exploring on my own. There was a music and arts festival happening across the street from my hotel. The music went from 2:00 until 10:00 pm.  Some of it was good. Some of it was horrible.  I had to smile and chuckle a little, seeing all the 15 year old kids who showed up to watch the worst bands and lay all over each other like wet puppies, none of them caring what the music sounded like.

 I went around town looking for a nice souvenir of the tour that I could give as a gift to the members of our group. I took a previous tour director’s suggestion and went to a shop that sells art made by local artists. I found 13 unique amazing bronze pieces modeled after pre-Columbian art of the region and coated in 24-karat gold.  After I bought the gifts, I sat and chatted with the shop girl about the importance of providing exclusive gay tours.

I came back to the hotel and took a nice hot bath. This is a luxury I don’t get often , since I live in a shoebox-size apartment in Key West, where the shower has no tub, and I can practically brush my teeth from the kitchen table.

I spent my evening hanging out in the hotel. I had a wonderful Costa Rican beer as well as traditional beef soup. The soup had wedges of corn on the cob, plantains, some other random starch, tomatoes, and rice.The soup was accompanied by possibly the best salad ever created, or even ever thought of, and I was reminded again that the “fresh” produce in the USA sucks. The avocado was much better in Costa Rica, it was so creamy and smooth. For some reason, writing about that avocado is giving me a craving to eat a stick of butter… what’s wrong with me?

The following day, I met up with several members of my group in the pool before our evening orientation. It’s always so much fun getting to know a new group. Ollie (our local guide) and I held the orientation in a hotel conference room and officially welcomed everyone to Costa Rica. We played some fun icebreaker games and afterward we drove to an old part of the city, which looked like the cutest little Spanish village you have ever seen. Like something straight out of speedy Gonzales. After dinner, everyone tried to get to bed as early as possible, since I had scheduled a special 6.1 earthquake to wake everyone at dawn.

Since San Jose is a seismic region, our hotel was built on rollers. It was really cool to feel the building swaying back and forth. The earthquake happened near Manuel Antonio, on the Pacific Coast, but we felt it strongly in San Jose. I know how to start a trip off with a bang!

Once our nerves calmed, we set out as planned for Tortuguero, an amazing unspoiled jungle on the Caribbean side of the country. On the way to our boat launch we stopped at an enclosed butterfly garden and Ollie showed me a gorgeous butterfly whose markings made it look like an owl. Flip it another way… and it looks like a little snake.

Our next stop was a Del Monte banana factory, where we watched how banana production is done. Forty-pound bunches of bananas are still brought to the processing facility on the backs of the men who work and live on the plantation. The bananas are sorted, with only the perfect 8-inch bananas (about yay-big-around) being shipped to other countries. The bunches are loaded onto chains where they are cut into clumps.  They float through a wash and are sorted by women for black spots, etc. The whole system feels very much like a company store. There are several little banana villages run by Del Monte, with Del Monte Doctors, Del Monte Soccer fields, and Del Monte Schools… You load 16 tons of bananas, what do you get? Another day older, and deeper in debt. Saint Peter don’t you call me cause I can’t go, I owe my soul to the company store. *insert music symbols*

We drove down dirt roads to our boat launch area, where we rode for another couple of hours on an Amazonish river. At one point, we navigated through shallow canals where several other boats had gotten themselves stuck up. As we moved past them, I yelled out “men, get ready the grapples, we take no prisoners.” To the other ships I yelled “all we want is your family jewels, give us your booty.” We never got stuck thanks to our fabulous captain.

After checking into our eco-lodge, we crossed over to the local village of Tortuguero, a town on the edge of the preserve with only 1000 residents. The village is a cute Caribbean Sea-side town with no roads. The buildings are covered with colorful murals and line the narrow walkways that serve as streets. While there, we visited the beaches where the largest population of Green Sea Turtles on the planet lays their eggs. The town makes its money from protecting the turtles and from tourism.

When we got back to our eco-lodge we all went to the pool. Since the group members were new to each other, I bought a round of drinks for everyone, which led to another round and another and turned into a real fun party. We learned about each other and really clicked as a group. I got to bed quite late, but it was worth it

On Valentines Day, we got up at 5:30 am so we could glide into the rivers and canals and see the animals as they are just waking up … or going to bed for the nocturnal ones. The flora and fauna were incredible, and we saw boa constrictors, birds, and caimans.  Ollie sliced open a giant flower bud and pulled out an amazing bouquet of flower stamens. Around 10:00 am  we took a walking tour through a labyrinth of a trail in the jungle. We found wild anise, and Ollie showed us how to rub the leaves on our skin as natural insect repellent. While walking through the forest  I found a nesting Atlas Moth … which shouldn’t have been in Costa Rica (but he didn’t know that). I recognized it because I’ve seen one up close at the Key West Butterfly Conservatory. We all got amazing pictures of it. Later, Ollie was surprised by a huge boa constrictor and several of us got lost. On the upside of being lost, we rescued some hardy Norwegian woman who had been lost in these jungles since the Reagan years.

At lunchtime, Ollie and I gave everyone valentines that I had purchased from CVS before leaving Key West. I gave them all Lik-m-aid candy and Ollie gave rainbow animal valentines with rainbow tattoos. There really is nothing like watching a group of gay guys sporting their rainbow tats and licking candy sticks to instill a sense of adventure into the hearts and minds of everyone.

Around 3:00 pm we took another boat tour and right outside our lodge we found howler monkeys. Our boat man moved us under the trees and I got video of a monkey jumping over my head … definitely a male. We moved through some incredible side canals, and found a family of spider monkeys flying through the tree tops. One of them got mad at us and started swearing at us in monkey talk … until his branch broke and he fell into the river.

On the way back to the lodge I noticed a toucan and more howler monkeys in the trees. As darkness descended we sat around on the river dock having beers and a good time. This was promising to be one amazing trip! [to be continued ...]

For more information on this tour and many others, please visit our website at:

http://www.AlysonAdventures.com

Read part 2 of Tortuguero Expedition, Gay Costa Rica

Off to the Holy Land

By Zachary Moses

I was recently invited to participate in a tour of Israel, hosted by the Israel Tourist Board. Their goal was to show me and the other participants as many highlights of Israel as they could in less than one week. I have to say that Israel far exceeded my expectations, right down to the fresh baked pita on EL AL (the Israeli airline.

I will start from the beginning (or should I say Genesis?) of the trip:

As usual, I was rushing through JFK airport trying to make sure that I didn’t miss my flight. I arrived for what at first looked like a very short wait at the El Al ticket counter… (eye roll). I had been given at least 700 warnings about the protective nature of El Al ticket counter agents, but I still had no idea of the level of questioning I was about to go through. Honestly, it was like being in a room with interrogator Jethro Gibbs on an episode of the TV show NCIS. The El Al team asked me so many questions that I started to wonder if they ever intended to let me board my plane. Maybe they really just overbooked the flight and wanted to keep me earthbound in New York, while my money flew away. They were so determined to make me forfeit my right to board the plane that they had an undercover agent suggest that I sneak a mysterious package onto the plane for him. In fact, the old woman ahead of me in line got busted for meat and cheese in her bag. This was hilarious to watch. The agents asked her “are you trying to bring pork on our plane?” She replied “no, I swear it’s kosher!”

At security, I opted for the physical pat down.  It wasn’t that I was trying to avoid walking into the full-body x-ray machine, but I was just feeling lonely that day.  I don’t know what people are complaining about. I found the pat down quite refreshing… even a little… exhilarating.

Once I was on the plane, I knew I was off to see a culture that was wildly different from my own. For starters, I have never seen so many hat boxes in my life.  From the vantage point of my seat, it appeared that none of the Hasidic Jews were willing to let anyone else’s hat touch their own hat. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where to put my roll-aboard, since each and every overhead bin contained two hat-shaped hat boxes, each the size of a cocker spaniel. Then at dinner, I asked the flight attendant for the non-kosher meal… the look she gave me was poison. Maybe she hears the joke on a regular basis?

Jerusalem was amazing. The climate is very similar to that of southern California. In fact, driving through the Jerusalem suburbs reminded me of my days spent in Malibu and Hollywood. Practically the entire city is made of beige Jerusalem Stone, giving the city an amazingly unified look.

After checking into our hotel, we walked down to the old city and haggled with the local merchants for some great stuff. I bought some amazing jewelry at prices that seemed to low to be true; of course, this was right and the jewelry broke after the second wear. You get what you pay for. There were also shops with an amazing variety of bulk spices. We stopped at an Austrian hostel and got a fabulous strudel; possibly the best strudel of my life. We went up to the roof of the hostel for a memorable panoramic view of the city of Jerusalem, then attended a welcome party at the YMCA, where we enjoyed watching dancers, drummers and local musicians.

Before going back to our hotel for the night,  a few of us went to a local felafel joint. We then walked to the “Plaza of Cats,” a meeting place where Jewish teenagers congregate in the evening to talk about nothing and smoke a hookah (apparently a perfectly legal activity for Israeli teenagers.)

The next day, we had a fabulous breakfast in the hotel. In all my travels this was the most delicious hotel breakfast I’ve had. France may have good food for lunch and dinner, but France has nothing on Israel when it comes to breakfast. My favorite thing? The dates. The fresh dates in Israel are fantastic. (I had no idea that what I had been eating my whole life was a dried/preserved product). In the afternoon, we went back to the old city and saw all the major sites, the Wailing Wall, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and the Dome of the Rock to name a few. We saw where followers of different religions fight over every speck of dust on the most sacred corner of the city. To think of all the holy wars that have been fought over this place is mind-blowing. This City must have been rebuilt half a hundred times.

My feet were killing me and I had started eating the inner lining of my jacket by the time we finally stopped for lunch. I had a bit of a panic attack when I saw the food spread. Nothing but hummus and pickles as far as I could see, so I just sat there stuffing myself with bread. Ten minutes later the waiters showed up with the most amazing dishes I’d ever seen… and I now had a belly full of bread. I decided to risk stuffing myself to the explosion point and it was worth it. (I kept flashing back to Monty Python’s “the Meaning of Life.”)

Next stop? The Dead Sea. The absolute lowest point on the planet… if you don’t count the bottom of the ocean, coal mines, or certain caves in Vietnam. It seemed quite a paradox as we passed peaceful date palm groves and at the same time heard about the bloody conflicts between Israelis, Jordanians, Palestinians and other neighbors that have taken place over the last… well… forever. I learned that the Dead Sea has receded significantly in the last 100 years. Our guide showed us where the water level once was and it was scary. Is it global warming? Is it natural? Did the water recede due to actions of man? At this rate, the Dead Sea could be gone by the time I’m an old man. There is now talk of a joint project between Jordan and Israel to bring water from the Red Sea to the Dead Sea. I am sure this would be carefully engineered, but I can’t help but get apocalyptic images of the waters of the Red Sea bursting through from the south and pouring into the below-sea-level Dead Sea valley. That would be a lot of water. Hmmm, this would make a great sci-fi movie!

When we arrived at our Dead Sea resort, we all went down to the spa and swam in Dead Sea water that had been heated and pumped into pools. It was already dark, so we couldn’t go over to the actual Dead Sea. The water was warm and I was amazingly buoyant, but the salt water made a cut on my hand feel as if it was on fire.

We got up bright and early the next morning so that we could be the first tourists to arrive at Masada. At Masada are the ruins of an ancient Roman fortified mansion built on a plateau overlooking the Dead Sea. The tram ride up offered spectacular views . Until the tram was built, visitors would have had to make this grueling trip on a dangerous snaking trail that would take hours in the blazing sun.

When we got back to the Dead Sea we still had a couple of hours for daylight swimming. The water was beautiful, and smells much better than the Great Salt Lake near where I grew up in Utah. The water in the Dead Sea was really cold, which is not surprising since it was December, but we got in anyway. The saltiness gives the water an oily feeling… or at least that’s why they said it felt oily… *shudder*

Next stop Eilat, home of the Underwater Observatory. The observatory is surrounded bycorals and tropical fish, the exact opposite of the lifeless Dead Sea. From the windows we could see some of the underwater scenes that you might see while scuba diving. I stood near some tourists and asked out loud, of no one in particular, why the floor was all wet. (They weren’t amused.)

Afterward, we visited a place called the Dolphin Reef. Here they have fenced off a section of the Red Sea and have 8 or 9 captive dolphins swimming among divers and snorkeling tourists. Floating above the dolphin habitat was a series of platforms that allowed us to see what all the underwater fuss was about. Being out over the water also afforded a view to the borders of four different independent countries (Israel, Jordan, Egypt and just down the coast, Saudi Arabia).

There was also a retreat center that conjured up images of lush tropical islands. The center was built with huge wooden beams and logs, then covered in vegetation. You could imagine Robinson Crusoe taking up residence in one of the tree houses. In the lower portion of the retreat center they have several relaxation pools. Some have Red Sea water, others are salty like the Dead Sea, and yet more pools have sweet water. Visitors can have a massage from therapists or do other relaxation therapies while in the water.

Later that day we took a domestic flight to Tel Aviv. In the local market, I purchased my very first fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice. This was soooo much better tasting then the usual glass of pasteurized pomegranate juice from the supermarket. I searched the market high and low trying to find a dreidel (4-sided spinning top) for my son. One would think that there would be no easier place to find a dreidel than in Israel…not so. Especially since the dreidel is typically a Hanukkah toy, and Hanukkah was coming up in two weeks. In the evening we visited a museum and enjoyed listening to a local a cappella singing group.

The following morning we took a tour of Tel Aviv, and saw the house where the Israelis first declared their independence as a Jewish state.  Next we went to historic Jaffa: one of the worlds oldest seaports. At the base of Jaffa is Andromeda Point. This is where the Greeks claim Andromeda was offered as sacrifice to the Kraken, a legendary sea monster epic proportions, before being saved by Perseus. Littered all around Andromeda Point are stones that are said to be bits and pieces of the monster after Medusa’s severed head (Perseus’ heroics again) turned it into stone. This was possibly the most culturally significant place I visited, since I had just watched Clash of the Titans. Before leaving Jaffa we saw a show by an amazing music and dance troop. The troop is called Mayumana, and is a must-see when in Israel.

Our flight home from Tel Aviv to JFK was leaving at 1:00 am, so all of the Americans had to skip dinner and get directly on our transfer to the airport. The immigration and customs procedures were so much easier for me on the return. Unlike my trip into Israel, they seemed like they couldn’t have been happier to send me home.

But I hated saying goodbye to all my new friends, and to this unique land that I was just getting to know…..

For more information on the HE Travel tour to Israel follow the link:
http://hetravel.com/gay/travel/Israel_tour.htm

Cuban Sojourn – Part 2: On the Road to Cienfuegos and Trinidad

In the middle of our week-long humanitarian trip to Cuba we took a two-night “road trip” to see a portion of the countryside and the Caribbean coastal port cities of Cienfuegos and Trinidad. During our brief stop in Cienfuegos, we walked along the main shopping street and in the main square, surrounded by a church, a professional theatre, and a museum. On the surface anyway, this city seems to have achieved a higher level of restoration than Havana. We had a special treat in Cienfuegos when we went to a room of the museum with great acoustics, and heard a concert by about 20 professional singers who specialize in Renaissance a cappella music and contemporary songs from Cuba and elsewhere in Latin America. I also got to meet a traditionally-dressed black woman who has been singing in an old Cienfuegos mansion, Palacio de Valle, for decades. I first met her in 2000 and was pleased to see that she is still at her piano, entertaining visitors with a big smile and a bigger voice!

From Cienfuegos, we drove along the Caribbean coast to Trinidad. This small city has received UNESCO’s World Heritage Site designation due to its several blocks of low-rise colonial-era buildings. As in Havana, many have been beautifully restored (including our hotel, the Iberostar), but every block also has numerous dilapidated structures. Trinidad was one of Cuba’s first centers for the cultivation of sugar, so it was a very rich city until the sugar planters moved their operations to the plains of central Cuba. Left behind in Trinidad though are extravagant homes, as well as plantation houses (and a steam railway) in the nearby “Valley of the Sugar Mills”. One morning we spent an hour watching crews weld together the smokestack of one of the century-old steam engines, then we rode in a restored open rail car about 20 kilometers into the countryside.

Our hotel was across the street from Trinidad’s Central Park, which was lively during the day with boys on skateboards and roller blades, and at night with singers strumming guitars for friends, and lovers on benches in the darker corners of the park.

Just up from the town’s largest church is a set of steps with a level stretch in the middle. Every night there is a salsa dance party there, and the town comes out to watch, seated around small tables or on the steps. It’s quite a friendly crowd, and both nights we were there members of our group had a chance to chat with local residents. A couple of gay guys and their well-dressed female friend invited me to “las Cuevas” or “the Caves”. I had no idea what that meant, but I followed them along a winding road up the mountain, and saw a large crowd at the top gathered around the entrance to a cave. There was a large sign overhead announcing “Disco Ayala.”

My three Trinidad friends and I entered the mouth of the cave, and we went down a long set of stairs until we got to the entrance of a huge room filled with perhaps 400-500 people. Most were probably in their 20s or 30s, and both the men and women had clearly dressed up for their night out. We stayed almost up to the closing time of 3 am, then took a run-down Russian Lada taxi back down to the town. (Only one door worked for the back seat, and the driver had to open the hood and turn something to start the engine, but it saved us the walk back to town.)

We got out of the taxi opposite our hotel, at a 24-hour restaurant / mini-market, full of loud revelers from the disco. We watched the crowds come and go for an hour or so until we walked back through the park, and I wished my friends good night before returning to my room for 2 hours of sleep. All-in-all, it was an exhausting evening, but an unforgettable chance for an authentic Cuban experience alongside new Cuban friends.

Cuban Sojourn – Part 1: Havana

In early November 2011 I had the privilege of being a participant in a fully-licensed humanitarian tour of Cuba with 15 other American men. Our group donated over 200 pounds of medical supplies to a home for elderly women and for an HIV/AIDS clinic.

During this trip we spent time in Havana on the north coast (the Florida Straits connecting the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic), and in Trinidad, a much smaller city on the southern Caribbean coast, with a stop in Cienfuegos along the way. It has been fascinating to see what has changed and not changed since my previous visit with a group of educators in 2000, both in terms of the people and the environment in which they live.

What hasn’t changed is that the Cuban people long ago understood that they cannot change either their own government or the American government, and they’ve gotten on with their lives. They are all victims of a political stalemate that is vastly beyond their control, but in their daily lives, they refuse to play the role of passive victims. Despite the extremely low income of most residents of Cuba, most people are well-dressed (especially younger people), have enough to eat, and smile and sing a lot.

Quite striking is the clear sense of shared identity and community which transcends race, age, gender, sexual orientation or profession. In this regard, Fidel and Raul Castro have succeeded in creating a society that at least on the surface is quite egalitarian. This is a society with far more racial integration than is visible in the United States several decades after the landmark civil rights legislation.

A large percentage of the Cubans who still live on the island are of mixed racial background, and most groups of friends that we saw included black, white and mixed-race people. This is also visible among hotel and restaurant staff, salsa dancers in Trinidad, audience members for the flamenco dance performance, chess players in the park, and residents and staff of the home for elderly women where our group donated a portion of our medical supplies.

Contemporary Cuba is famous for its classic cars from the 1950s and for its large sections of grand buildings built as far back as colonial times. On the surface, the city of Havana has not changed much during the decade since my last visit. However, most building facades show another decade of deterioration, and too many of those facades betray empty space behind, where walls and roofs have caved in.

There are virtually no recently-built buildings, either in the city center of Havana, the suburbs, the countryside or in the smaller cities of Cienfuegos and Trinidad. However, in the heart of Havana’s historic district there are several grand old buildings that have been restored and turned into restaurants and shops. This demonstrates the potential of this area, and offers hope as one surveys the vast stock of dilapidated buildings. The renovations are part of a creative process that began with a UNESCO grant, and has become a self-sustaining loop with funds from thriving new businesses being used to renovate other buildings.

In Havana we were exposed to artists in several different mediums. We had a lecture on the diversity of Cuban music and several members of our group attended a Spanish flamenco dance performance at Havana’s largest theatre. We also drove to the upscale Miramar district to the home of Jose Fuster, a very creative Cuban artist. His specialty is colorful ceramic tiles, and these adorn all the walls of his home – and his neighbors’ homes – and the walls in front of each house – and the bottom of his swimming pool.

One night several of us had drinks on the panoramic terrace of the Hotel Nacional, a huge classic hotel overlooking the sea. From there we walked back to our hotel along the Malecon, Havana’s seawall. Along the way were various couples and groups of friends, but at one spot our “gaydar” went off and the smiles from the guys there assured us that we had found the gay part of the Malecon. We found a couple of young men who had fairly good English and we wound up sitting down with them for drinks and getting their perspective on what it is like to be gay in a country where most young men live with their parents until marriage (not easy). Outlets such as the Malecon wall, parties that move between different venues and a couple of dance clubs provide them a chance to meet friends.